Godforsaken

There is a little girl with dark brown hair giggling through a patch of tall wildflowers. She roves through the weeds like they’re branches of good luck that she desperately needs to touch. But I know my Celine doesn’t need any good luck. She’s too well-protected by the strong arms of the man who shoots out from the space next to me. He scoops her up and laughs as she giggles madly.

“Mommy!” she calls.

I wave as another splash of laughter trickles out of her mouth.

“Mommy cannot save you!” laughs the dark haired man.

Then it’s a mad dash back through the patch of wildflowers. A few other children manage to escape their parents and join the two. The tall, broad shouldered man seems to give up then. He surrenders with raised hands and starts for the blanket I’m stretched out on.

I grin widely when he nears, opening my arms because I want him in them. He happily falls down in between my legs and lets me wrap them around his torso. When I bend around for a kiss, he obliges fervently.

One of his big hands comes up to cradle the back of my head as his tongue deliciously allows me to get a taste of him. I almost moan as his lips slowly pull away from mine.

“She’s feisty like you,” he chuckles.

I can’t open my eyes. I’m still too lost in the kiss.

“I think she gets that from you, sweetheart,” I hum.

I nuzzle into the side of his neck where I press a few quick kisses to his warm skin. He bends into me, stretching one of his big hands to my thigh. When he lets out a happy sigh, I grin wide.

I pull back to lounge out on the blanket again while allowing my fingers to begin to trail through his thick hair.

“I think it’s the both of us. She was doomed from the beginning.”

A loud laugh pushes out from my chest at hearing this. I have to agree, though. My daughter wasn’t going to be blessed with the soft, flowing nature of an easy-going person. Especially not when her father was Gale Hawthorne and her mother was a character like me.

“It suits her, though. She wouldn’t be our daughter if she wasn’t so spirited.”

Gale nods as he leans further back. He presses his back against me while resting some of his weight on his elbows. One of his big hands has trailed down from my thigh and is now making invisible patterns on my lower leg. He still wears a content smile

“Do you think little Finn will be anything like her?”

I glance over to the sleeping baby resting to the right of Gale and I. Like Celine, he has his father’s thick mop of dark brown hair. It rests in loose spirals here and there on his small skull while a few pieces have teetered onto his forehead.

Smiling, I reach out to grab one of the baby’s small hands and begin to stroke his knuckles.

“No,” I quietly begin. “He’ll be gentle.”

“Like him,” Gale says.

My fingers had halted their movement when I’d reached for my baby, but now they also slide out of Gale’s tresses. I let them fall onto his broad shoulder.

I don’t cry anymore out of sadness for Finnick. The tears stopped years ago, after my wedding night and Gale had promised to kiss all of my scars. But I do tear up. I almost weep because I see the life I’ve created, one I know that Finnick would’ve wanted for me. These children aren’t his and another man is making love to me at night, but I know my past love would be happy. I am living and that would be enough for someone who so selflessly loved me.

Gale sits up and turns his body around to face me. He gently runs the pad of his thumb over Finn’s cheek before facing me fully. With his two big hands, he cups my cheeks. I gladly lean into him while gripping the material of his shirt that rests at his sides.

“Yea, he’ll be like him,” I eventually say.